


Vignettes.

by Crowley_Kitten



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale was made for Crowley, Bedtime Stories, Beelzebub was Sidquiel before the fall, Biblical Genocide, Casual Sex, Crawly on the ark, Crowley Has Long Hair (Good Omens), Crowley Was an Archangel Before Falling (Good Omens), Crowley has Trauma from the Fall (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Crowley was Kokabiel before the fall, Crucifixion, Discreet Gentlemen's Club (Good Omens), Domesticity, Genocide, God Ships It, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Just a J, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, POV Beelzebub (Good Omens), Paperwork, Scene: Crucifixion of Jesus 33 AD (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), The Flood - Freeform, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), They/Them plural pronouns for Beelzebub, drowned people, hastur is an arsehole, hell is a nightmarish office, never really just a J., you can't kill kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:01:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25272088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowley_Kitten/pseuds/Crowley_Kitten
Summary: a number of small, stand alone one shot wonders.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & God (Good Omens)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

good evening all. 

I love a one shot single chapter short take as much as anyone. 

rather than having them separate, they will be here. 

they will not necessarily be the same timeline. in my main works, The End of the Arrangement, The Garden of Temptations, Consequences. they can be considered part of the same timeline.  
if i  
these, well they're one shots. ideas. if they fit that timeline, they fit it. if they don't then they're not part of it. if it contradicts other stories I write, it's a separate story, and that's fine. 

they will come as they happen

PS. I love you lot. Kudos before I've even posted one.


	2. The Gavotte, and other dances for lonely gentlemen.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> during a long absence, missing Crowley, Aziraphale seeks out the company of other men

The Gentlemen's club was cosy and welcoming. Aziraphale sat in a comfortable chair, people watching. Swirling brandy in the glass. Warming it to release the smoky scent.

He sighed heavily. even among friends, he felt so lonely. Nobody had lived a life like his. They were so young, yet their time left would be so short. It seemed cruel, somehow. Pretty young fellows, groomed and polished until they shone like brightly coloured birds. Older men who carried a weight about their shoulders that spoke of a life lived in hiding from the truth. Taking a little time away from families to indulge in even a brief pretence at having a life they wanted. one hundred guineas worth of companionship and understanding. one hundred guineas to not be on the outside for a brief evening here and there.

He had come here to cheer himself up, but today he just felt empty. It had been SO long. They'd been apart for longer in the past, but they had parted with so much unsaid between them. The only other being that knew what it was to be on Earth for so long.

He wondered if he had succeeded in his acquisition. Maybe he had managed to source some. Maybe he was..... NO! No, surely he wouldn't have.....Not without saying goodbye. Surely he owed him that much. And if he was......gone, then was this the closest he would get to a companionable evening for the rest of..... eternity. What a cold and harsh word.

A hand topped up his tumbler.

"Penny for them?" Said the man, smiling gently. Sliding into the seat beside his. Aziraphale reluctantly glanced up. Slightly put out at the invasion of his melancholy solitude. He had soft chocolate brown eyes, fringed with long lashes. Very soft looking lips, and he noted the paint under his fingernails. An artist?.

"Oh, there's more than a pennys worth, I assure you. And you would regret the purchase, I'm sure."   
  
"You look sad. Thoughtful. Would you, perhaps consider dancing? It solves nothing but helps distract the mind" Aziraphale shrugged.   
  
"I'm not much of a dancer....." He let his eyes wander over the long, artistic fingers. The full lips. The dark curls. The young man.... no, he was clearly older than the wide-eyed innocence and gentle smile suggested. Maybe late thirties, early forties. Younger than he himself appeared. Younger than he had ever BEEN, in any real terms. There was a childlike quality to him, but he knew that if he glanced away, the young man would be old and dead and gone. Humans were so very fragile and temporary.  
  
"They're doing the Gavotte. It's fun. Even if you're not that good at it" Well, what the Hell. Heaven. Whatever. Crowley was .....who knows what Crowley was. Aziraphale was alone, and this young man with his open smile and soft warm eyes seemed to take an interest in him, even if he had no idea why. He knew he was finely dressed. Looked wealthy, and indeed was wealthy. But there was something in the way he looked at him. It made him feel.....something. So when the hand reached out to his, he took it, smiling at the rough, human callouses on his hands. The paint. As they danced, he enjoyed the touch of his palm on the small of his back. The dance was vigorous, and yes, as he had said, it was FUN. They spun away into a corner, laughing softly. When their eyes met, they stilled.   
  
The young man pressed forwards, letting his soft soft lips press to his. He whimpered softly. It felt so gentle and heated and kind.   
  
"Charles" The man whispered. "My name... seems we've gone a bit all out of order"   
  
"Aziraphale" He sighed back. Reaching back for those lips. Crowley wasn't here. Crowley might be gone. Crowley was his adversary. His mortal enemy.

Even if he WERE here, this would never happen. He could never kiss him like this. Charles ran his hands lightly up the older mans back, reaching almost instinctively for a point on his shoulder blades that drew a cry from him, as he strained against the urge to release his wings.

Not the time.

Not the place.

But this young man seemed to have an instinct fo find his most sensitive erogenous zones. Oh, he wished he could take him as a lover. But it would be too complicated. He was human, after all. and Aziraphale....he deep down didn't believe he should make love to someone unless he truly loved them. And that belonged only to... no. NO don't think on that. Try and enjoy a moment for what it was.

A few other patrons had noticed, but they looked away. That was what this place was all about. Men with ...differing interests, meeting together. The Angel closed his eyes, imagined Amber eyes burning into his. Charles grabbed his hand and led him into one of the smaller rooms, closing the door firmly behind them.   
  
"what do you want to do?" He panted. Aziraphale swallowed hard.   
  
"There is another... but I don't know if he is alive or dead..... and there's no difference either way, because our..... our families...." Charles nodded. "Hands. Maybe mouths. No penetration. You?"   
  
"Yes, that's fine with me. If you change your mind, I'm yours in any way you want me" Aziraphales abdomen tightened, making his hard cock flex. They fell back onto the settee, kissing frantically. The younger man ran his hands down his front, to the bulge in his trousers. He mounted him, sliding his thigh between his legs. The friction met his firm penis. Made him shudder hard. There were fingers working at his shirt buttons. The owner of those hands breathing hard and fast. The long fingers trailed over his plump form, his lips travelled lower.   
  
Before long, he was falling apart under those lips. Those lips that had nuzzled at his waistband, unfastening him and freeing his stocky dick. Then those same lips, moaning softly, took him inside.   
  
Charles was undoubtedly a beautiful young gentleman. He was skilled with his lips and tongue. Aziraphale could feel a tightening in his lower spine and belly. Let his head fall back, Focused only on the wet sensation of the way he sucked. Aziraphale was moaning like a wounded beast.   
  
And then. Then the dance came to its triumphant finale. Aziraphale came, with a name on his lips.   
  
"Crowley...." He whimpered, then blushed a deep red. The admission of his feelings just too much to face. Charles fell back gasping. It didn't seem he'd heard him. Or if he had, it didn't matter. They both knew why they were here. to snatch a moment of acceptance. A moment in which they were not lonely. A vignette of a world less cruel to souls like theirs.   
  
It was a dance humankind had been testing the steps of since.... since the first religious scholar that poured disdain on the love between two consenting men. Aziraphale...lov....no....had feelings for Crowley. Poor Charles, well he must have his own story of a beloved who could never be his. They all did.   
Aziraphale rolled over so he wouldn't see the tears. Tears for a world so cruel and lonely and hard. He was an Angel. All he wanted was a world where love like this was in the open.   
  
And if a man and a man could learn the steps of this dance, maybe so could an Angel and a Demon.   
Wherever he was.   
Aziraphale later prayed for the safety of his beloved Crowley. The purest soul he had ever known.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another fic regarding the Gentlemens club in Portland Place, where Aziraphale meets again with an older Charles
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25751473


	3. the little touches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's the unhungry, unhurried, casual touches that make Crowley complete

In the days, weeks, months, years, that followed the Armageddon that never came, there were many touches. It started with holding hands. soft kisses. the hooking of a hand around an elbow, while guiding a good friend in the direction you were going. The brush of a knee to a knee as, seated side by side, a thigh relaxed just enough to fall open.

  
The wipe of a thumb to a smidgeon of chocolate sauce escaping hungry pink lips. The brushing back of a tendril or dark blood red hair, behind an ear, exposing a serpent sigil. all the better to kiss it.

Crowley emerged from the bathroom, robed in black satin with a red trim, a soft, fluffy cream coloured towel around his head, and descended the spiral stairs into the main atrium of the shop. He padded barefoot over the smooth worn wood, and allowed himself to flop into the sofa in the little office space to the east of the shop. As always, the sofa fit to his form, as it had for so many many years now. He wondered if the passenger seat of his Bentley felt as welcoming to his Angel. HIS Angel.

Aziraphale looked up from his book, smiling warmly. A smile that reached his stormy sea eyes.

"My dear" He said simply. He moved from his chair at the desk to sit with him, as he knew he enjoyed after a bath or shower. Crowley flung his long legs over the arm of the sofa, resting his head on the Angels plush, soft thighs, looking up at him. Well manicured fingers lightly stroked his face until he felt utterly relaxed and sleepy. He gently pushed back the towel, the better to smooth those fingers through his drying hair. Combing lightly through until the heat of his fingers dried the tendrils and they gleamed like the satin he wore. Crowleys eyes were lightly closed. his breathing soft and even. Aziraphale reached for a hairbrush, started working it through the silken lengths.

With a soft moaned sigh, Crowley rolled from the seat to the floor, laying his head back between the Angels knees, gazing up at him with liquid Amber eyes. Honey sweet. glowing. Aziraphale worked the brush through the lengths until there were no more snags, delighting in his hair. Oh he loved his hair long. he really should tell him more often. Remembering the first time he had seen Crowley emerge from that elegantly silken creature that slithered over to join him. How everything changed in that moment. He let his nails gently rake along that sensitive scalp, drawing more soft, content sighs. Then, deftly, capably, very much so for someone that had always worn their own hair short and manageable, he worked those russet waves into a series of plaits and coils, securing them with hairties from the handle of the brush. Pulling the curls back in an alluring sweep to show his smooth temples, angular cheekbones, the knifelike jut of his beautiful jaw.

  
Aziraphale leaned over, eye to eye, and raised the pointed chin in his fingers for a sweet, chaste, kiss.

Crowleys heart swelled in contentment. He could not decide whether he liked best, a rush of lust or the warm embrace of comfortable familiarity. And he didn't have to choose.

He closed his eyes focusing only on those warm thumbs sliding over his smooth brows, until he fell into a comfortable and warm sleep.


	4. Kokabiel hung the stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Archangel Kokabiel, starmaker. asked too many questions. he fell. he had no malice or cruelty. just a curiosity bone deep.

Kokabiel soared. His wings, so many wings, were blacker than midnight, sheened with blues and purples, and sparkling with iridescent sources of light of their own. He didn't have the glowing white wings so many other Angels had. He was winged with night. With firmament. With stars. Swirling moons his halo. Stars of his own creation. His hair tumbled deep red like the blood of the living. His eyes were the gold of a dying sun. He knew this from creating a burning gas giant and accelerating it through it's natural lifespan. Blood and gold, and sunset light.

He stretched a point of energy between his palms, until the air sucked and pulled like magnets, and then burst into creation, sparks between his hands. A heavy warmth. A warmth he fed with his own essence until it grew, and when it's expansion was too rapid to hold, he would leap deep into the blackness of space, tails of burning light stretched out behind him, as he found just the right spot for the newborn star before it expanded, vast and powerful.

Close up, the stars he created were as God herself. So vast. So bright that one could not gaze upon them. At a distance, so sparkling and gentle. Like the memory of a Mothers embrace. And Kokabiel knew

How the two were one and the same.

God looked upon the glittering firmament, and saw that it was good. And she smiled. She praised Kokabiel for his artistry, and he near purred with satisfaction. This new solar system was important, and together, he created the star, the star that must meet the most precise parameters. She created planets, indicating one that was the perfect distance from his new and favourite star. The glow around her hands as she reached into her creative depths, and drew forth light. There was light, and there was darkness. There was land and there was water. And Kokabiel thought that the land looked like a lovely place to be. She created a rich, verdant garden, she created birds, and fish, and the little planet was populated with song, and colour, and scent. And Kokabiel saw that it was good.

He set new stars in the void of space in celebration.

Then, the .... she called them humans. Mankind. They were like Angels, but young, innocent, unwary. Like Angels that had no sense of self preservation. In so many ways, like himself.

And God rested. And as she rested, she received a message from that poolswell of creation. You will be challenged. You will be questioned.

If you love your creation, you must cast your questioner down to fall.

She woke uneasy. The Morning Star had already fallen, and with him, many of his rebellion. Casting out Angels was like tearing herself limb from limb. Her heart fell on seeing the mass of red hair, the multiple inkblack wings, and the honeygoldsweet eyes.

"MOTHER!" Her beloved angel raged. "WHY do you make them suffer! Why must you lay temptation right before them so. why do you WANT THEM TO FAIL!"

Her heart broke over and over. There was no explanation for making temptation so readily available. But she knew it must be so.  
and this vision she had had, it told her, her most beloved Angel must fall. He placed the stars in the sky for her, a tribute to the beauty of creation.

  
The Archangel Kokabiel had chosen his side. He was on the side of her creation. She knew this was what must be. She drew him close, planting a chaste kiss to his forehead. His golden eyes closed softly.

"My dear Angel" She whispered. "I wish I could help you make sense of this, but I do not yet understand why this must happen. You have chosen your side, and it is not my side any longer. "

"Mother" He moaned. His tongue thick in his mouth with fear and worry. She reached into him. The world seemed to shimmer as her long fingers emerged with a light from deep inside him. An unborn star.

"WHY did you ask me these questions? Why have you lost faith in me, beloved starmaker?" He didn't know. He couldn't know. THEN. His sentence. God herself clutched the little star to her heart, as if to comfort her in her choice. A hen clutching to a precious egg. Her eyes closed. Eyes that were black, and gold, and white, and silver, and colours that were un-named "My DEAR Kokabiel. I wish it were not you who came to ask me this, my most beloved, my most beautiful. ..." Her voice became hard, as she fought her instinct to pull the fragile and beautiful Angel closer. "I must cast you out. You challenge me. You challenge my motives" Tears streamed down her cheeks. "Beloved, you are sentenced to fall. Forever removed from my grace. .....I wish it were not so, you who soared among the stars of your creation, cast down to the Earth where it lies under your crawling, writhing belly. " She raised a staff. A staff like a tree that bridged space between worlds, and she slammed it's heel to the ground beneath her feet.   
  
The heavens split open, with rumbling and a roaring sound in his ears, and a great force pushing him downwards. A sickening sensation hauled at his insides, first, the sensation of gravity, of reaching for a step that was no longer there.   
  
Kokabiel fell.   
  
Where solid and dependable creation should catch him, his gut pooled and wrenched as the fall began. Kokabiel forced his gold, warm eyes closed, feeling the burning heat hungrily devour his skin. His wings. The sickening scent of burning hair and feathers. ]

And still he fell.

The sensation of sick, agonised anger inside of him.

And still he fell.

Like daggers searing through his corporeal flesh. For the first time ever, he felt like he needed to vomit. To pass excrement. To urinate. And all three he did, and sick shame and humiliation added to his burning. He wasn't fit to stand before her. His taste of the firmament a cruel torture. "your art? your skill? you are not worthy to look on it"   
  
He tried so hard to visualise that embryonic star she had torn from his heart. Clung to like it would save them both. It's colours of white, gold, blue. It was destined to be a most beautiful star.   
  
Exhausted. Kokabiel lost the breath to scream any longer.

And still he fell.

And still he fell.

Searing, burning pain tormenting his unholy flesh. Consciousness came and went. Oh how long must he fall? Screaming. Screaming until his vocal cords tore. Blood flowing from his lips. The pain and the fear overwhelming. He forgot his own name.

He forgot the stars. He forgot the tenderness of working closely with the creator.   
His wings seared and burned bright like fireworks, until only one pair remained, and that one pair bore scars and bald and blistered patches from the violence he had lived through. They had lost their starry decoration.   
  
The impact didn't knock the breath from him. No, not that. It crushed him. The sharp and jagged stones. The screaming all around him. Worse still, the emptiness inside. ]

He was unworthy.

He was unloved.

He was unwanted.

He vaguely recalled soaring among great glowing galaxies. Now he was fit only to crawl on his belly, on the sharp jagged stones. His broken and shattered limbs pained him, so he pulled them back inside himself, just a head on a spine. Slithering.   
  
Empty cold agony, where he had burned out like a comet. The humans, Adam and Eve were their names, had pointed to the sky, to that bright red gold streak falling from above them. Not knowing it had a name, it had dreams, and hopes and a yearning for love. It knew the deepest suffering that had yet been known.   
  
And there was Lucifer. He remembered him. He had changed. Still beautiful, but he could see that the rejection had started to twist his form. The slithering, worthless serpent wondered how shame and fear and bitterness would change him.   
Other Demons gathered. It had been a while since the last fall, curiosity drew them closer.   
  
"Look at it. Crawly little snake. Wonder who it was before" Lucifers burning eyes peered into his, seeking recognition. But the serpent could not remember who he was. Just the emptiness where the love and grace had been. His rejection. He had been cast away. Cast out. Unwanted. He tried to shape a name on his forked tongue, but could not remember the shape of the word. "You've forgotten, then? Many of them do. ... Crawly it is then."   
  
  
  
  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
God curled her arms around herself and wept bitterly. Such a little transgression. It was nothing really. She knew that there was a reason. There HAD to be a reason, but Kokabiel was so pure, such an innocent. He didn't belong down there. If only she could at least know the reason why it needed to be so. But there was nobody she could turn to. Nobody to ask. Nobody to go on her knees to for advice or judgement. Just the deep and sure knowledge that there WAS a reason. 

  
She clutched tighter to the little star. It's beauty unparalleled.   
  
Setting her chin, she decided. Kokabiel was too soft a creature to survive Hell. So she put in a communication to Hell. Your newest arrival must be stationed on Earth. He must walk in Eden. Think of him as a representative. And maybe she could place that precious last star where he could see it and it would comfort him. Stop him being lost to bitterness and hatred.   
  
And not just hell, but the rejection. He had so loved to be praised for his works. Rejecting him would wound him deeply.   
  
She caressed the star thoughtfully. He needed someone to look out for him. Someone to keep an eye on him. Someone kind. Someone soft. Someone that would always remind him of the good and pure self he had been before. Someone to stop that light sputtering out inside him.   
  
She took the star in her palms, and breathed life into it. Breathed form into it. A new Angel. An Angel with stormy blue grey eyes, and hair soft like the clouds after the storm, aglow with celestial light. with a strong but soft body, that would make you feel safe and protected in its embrace. With an easy, gentle smile, that crinkled around the eyes. 

  
  
Life went into the form, and the new Angel gasped a great lungful of air. She smiled fondly. Placing her hand over his heart, where the star resided.   
  
"Aziraphale" She whispered. 


	5. first dates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after the fall of man, it's some time before Aziraphale and Crawly are reassigned to the wider parts of Earth.

The serpent slithered slowly over. Aziraphale still tended towards remaining on the Eastern Banks of Eden, even though the gate was no longer in need of guarding. He had been relieved of that duty.

The garden was pleasant, and the Demon was surprisingly good company. Not at all like heaven had said.

"Hello Crawly" He said gently, as the sinuous shape before him stretched and reformed into the golden eyed, blood red haired demon that had become something of a companion in recent days.

"Do you miss them... the Humans?.... Seems awfully quiet without them"

"Yes. they were interesting to be around.... and then you pulled all that .....stuff with the apple"

"Starting to wonder if that was a good idea. Things seem more dull now." The Angel pouted. Raising his eyebrows.

"Yes........ well......"

"They were always very interesting. They had a lot of interesting ways to pass the time" Aziraphale blushed, thinking of the time he had found them beneath the apple tree, slotting their bodies together in a most... interesting and strangely hard to not dwell on way. The sounds they made. At first he had thought they were hurting each other, then he felt the love radiating from them.

"I wonder though, why eating THAT fruit was bad, and the other fruit, not bad. ever wondered about that eating thing?"

"It looks..... interesting. " He responded. A little embarrassed his first thought had been of their mating habits.

"Have you tried it? Food I mean. Fruit. Stuff. "

"NO! Are you trying to tempt me? Because we ARE allowed to know the difference between right and wrong, and that's why you're a ..... " He gestured awkwardly. "and I'm a....."

"Shall we try it? Food I mean. They seemed to like it. She was getting quite round with how much she enjoyed eating" Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

"You can't seriously be telling me that you thought she was getting CHUBBY! Silly snake! She...." He noted the way those wide, innocent Amber eyes looked up at his "No..... you really don't know, do you?" The demon shrugged. "You never saw them.....?" No. There weren't the right words in his head to explain what he had seen.

"I've no idea what you're on about, Angel..... that tree over there. the sticky brown fruits. they liked those. do you want to try?"

"Dates, they're called. .... Shall we?"

Angel and Demon wandered over to the palm, laden heavy with fruits. Lay under its fronds that dappled the sunlight over them. They chatted amiably, enjoying the warmth. The Demon tugged down a bouquet of ripe, sweet, heady scented fruits. Plucked one, and offered it to his companion. Aziraphale sniffed deeply, and closed his eyes in pleasure. Crawly felt an unfamiliar longing that had nothing to do with fruit. He gently pressed the fruit to those pink, soft lips. the Angel MOANED as he took it into his mouth. Chewed carefully. Swallowed. when his eyes opened they were unfocused. Crawlys thumb still resting on his plump lower lip, caressing his soft jaw. The Demon was gaping at him. eyes and mouth wide.

"Crawly? are you quite alright?" Crawly swallowed hard, an incoherent guttural sound in the back of his throat. He couldn't express what he had just felt. Strange and tingly and.... needy.... "My dear?"

"That sound you made just made me feel .... funny. Why did you make that noise?"

"try one. it's like scents, but better. I don't really know how to...." The Angel passed a small fruit into Crawlys mouth. He likewise, chewed slowly. Swallowed. Made a small hum of enjoyment.

"Yeah, it's nice. ... I like it better when you eat one though. I like the noises you make when you put food in your mouth"

"You are a funny little serpent, aren't you. ..... Yes, I think I like food. And we should definitely have a lot more dates together in future" The Demon smiled. creases forming around those huge, liquid gold eyes.

"Yes. I would like to have more dates together"


	6. once upon a time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> on board a boat, in the cold, damp, dark, the demon Crawly tries to find a way to comfort himself and the small amount of children he had managed to save.

The boat rocked sickeningly. Crawly felt deeply unwell, Like he had drunk too much wine. He curled into the corner, on a small pile of straw, and he sobbed until he felt empty.

Land was gone.

People were gone.

Bloated bodies had started rising to the surface of the waters and the stink was unbearable. And still the storm thrashed. There was nothing else he could do to help. 

The animals around him shifted uncomfortably. The Unicorn mare was especially miserable. Like him, she was the only one of her kind on this horrific vessel. Her head hung low. Her eyes dull. He curled in her stall and wept bitterly. 

  
He had tried. He had tried so hard. This morning he had braved the deck, and seen the purple blotched corpse of a woman curled around her dead child. It had made his head swim. His blood thump loudly in his ears. He had vomited over the side.

So many bodies in the water. No wonder Noahs family stayed huddled below deck. All the lives they had chosen not to save. Mothers. Children. Elderly people, no harm in them. Frail. Helpless. Their span of years and learning and stories lost to the world in glassy eyes that stared up to the stormy sky or down into the depths below them. The stench of the rotting bodies, bloated, fat with black flies and maggots, borne on the tides. The smaller bodies hurt the most. he would close his eyes to those chubby, limbs. The fat cheeks. They were truly innocent. Only a monster could drown them for the sake of a clean slate to start again. He remembered seeing them run and play. They had liked Crawly. They had liked his funny eyes, his long red hair. His playful, innocent nature.   
  
He had done his best but it took so little time before the occasional body in the water was still and bloated, rather than thrashing and desperate. He had only managed 12. 12 children. Ages ranging from around three to 14. The oldest girl had been clinging to her baby brother, who had died of the cold in the water.   
  
Crawly flung his head back and howled in pain and fear and hurt. He was a cursed thing. Tossed aside. Lost. Rejected. Unworthy.

But these children, they were innocent. And even his Angel had turned his face away when the rains fell. He had left when the waters lapped over the highest hillpoint. God herself had condemned all of those people to die. Even the children. Babies. Animals that were just living their lives, innocent of the whims of heaven. He fisted his long fingers in the damp straw, head thrown back and the sobs wrenched his trembling body until, exhausted, he stilled. 

  
When his consciousness returned, he found himself surrounded by warm, sleeping bodies. The little girl, around 6 maybe, had her chubby little fingers tangled in his red curls. The children clung to him. to his long lean limbs. to his glossy black wings. They had been dying, and this Angel, this strange, Angular, peculiar looking Angel had dragged them from the waters, cursing the heavens above with a ferocious rage.   
  
The unicorn was barely moving now. Lying down, her head and neck lying flat to the ground. Crowley could feel her grief, like a blanket, weighing him down. Or chains. Or lungs filled with cold, black water. He lifted her head to rest on his knee. One of the bolder children woke.   
  
"You saved us. where is Mama? Papa?"   
  
"They are gone, little one. I'm so sorry."  
  
"Gone where?" Expectant faces came to wakefulness around him. He felt exposed. Scared. Scared of these innocent children and how naked he felt under their hopeful, questioning eyes,   
  
"I don't know, little kittens. I don't know where they will go. I know they would be glad you are here, instead of wherever they've been taken. They would want you to be okay. They would do everything for you to be okay! and so will I."  
  
"I'm scared" Said another child, nestling under the curve of his night dark wing, leaning in to his shoulder.   


"Me too, my little ones. but I will protect you. I will keep you safe, If I can"  
  
"should we pray?" Crawly laughed bitterly.   
  
"No, my dear. this is something that prayer would not help. God is angry. We don't know why. And unfortunately, you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Please, don't pray. Find strength in each other instead. Because here, in this stall, we all care for each other"   
  
" Will you tell us a story?" said a younger child. tugging at his sleeve. " I am scared. I can't sleep" There were murmurs of agreement around him, he opened his arms and wings to welcome them close.   
  
With a deep, resigned, heartbroken sigh, he began.   
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
,  
  
  
Once upon a time. A golden time, when the clouds knew not how to rain, and the plants of the garden were so beautiful and green....  
  
  
There was..... a ..... a beautiful Angel. his eyes were blue like the sunny sky, or grey like clouds, or dark green like the ocean. If the world was happy, his eyes were happy. When sadness was around the darkness made the eyes even more beautiful. He had.... His hair was like the clouds at sunset, white gold and fluffy. His smile was like the sun rising, and made the skin around his eyes crinkle. He was kind and he was patient.   
  
In the garden was a curious snake. He loved to watch the beautiful Angel. The people in the garden showed him which fruits were good to eat, they showed him how to hollow a reed to make a flute, how to move their bodies in appreciation of the sounds that the flute made. The curious snake knew all of the leaves, green, and glossy, and a myriad of shapes. He knew all of the flowers, and their heady scents.   
  
But the curious snake always wanted more. He was a snake BECAUSE he was curious. He asked questions. He would see a sunset, and ask. How? How do those colours get painted across the heavens. He would see the difference in the plants. Did they grow, tall, or short, or spiky, or woody. and ask, "why? why is each different?"   
  
The people of the garden enjoyed the fruits of the plants that grew there. And the foolish, curious snake asked them why they did not try the apple. But the apple was not for them to taste, and they were banished from the garden. And the curious snake was sad, for he enjoyed being around them. Watching their clever, inventive ideas form. And he had never felt so alone.   
  
Then he saw the beautiful Angel. He went to the Angel, and he was afraid. For other Angels had hurt others like him. But the Angel was as kind as he was beautiful, and they talked. And the Angel took away the curious snakes loneliness. And the curious snake decided right then that he would spend forever trying to be around the beautiful Angel. that he would always trust to fate if the Angel willed it.   
  
And the lonely snake was happy. Truly happy. For the first time since before he was lonely. Before he was a snake. He had always been curious though.   
  
And the curious snake never stopped asking questions. Never stopped in his thirst to learn more about how he could help the world, help the people of the garden and their descendants.   
  
The curious snake knows that Angels are real. and strives to live his life in a way that makes the Angel happy. Because even though he is just a snake, he wants to experience all the world has to offer......"   
  
His voice trailed off. some of the children were back to sleep. others looked confused.   
  
"and the world offers us so much. even when we are hurt. even when we are sad. there will be a time when your feet will run barefoot in grass, with the sun on your skin, and you will wonder, what does that flower smell like, what does that food taste like, what story lies on those words marked in lines in paper. so....the curious snake wants you to never stop seeking knowledge. because the world to come will be very different, and I want you to make it into something better than it was before"   
  
again, those hands were stroking into his hair. the unicorn breathed softly into his thigh. some of the children snored. huddled close. in the meantime, the more they slept, the less they would have to deal with these long days of flood.   
  
"sleep, little ones. I have you. you're safe. I will keep you safe". 


	7. The Auditors.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> no, not the auditors of reality.   
> sometimes another busy day at the office can lead to revelations.

  
Pravuil rubbed his ink stained fingers to the spot above his eyebrows where the tense spot was uncomfortable.    
He ran his long fingers through, his salt and pepper hair, and closed his grey eyes in apprehension.    
  
he checked down over the lists. He hated miracle audit time. It always seemed such an invasion of privacy. And this one record seemed to document a litany of highly personal activities.

  
He wondered If he ought to consult with his downstairs left hand, Pazazu on this. It seemed that these miracles didn’t pair up to any of his other records. But if they paired up with downstairs.... surely not.    
  
Pravuil casually plucked a sleek feather from his wing, and cut the shaft into a nib, before dipping it into the ink.

  
  
_Angelic Miracles._

_Principality Aziraphale._

_September._

  
_Lubricate fingers._   
_Remove and neatly fold clothing._   
_Loosen primary and secondary anal sphincters in *name redacted*_   
_Delay orgasm._   
_Clean bodily fluid from sheets, clothing and skin._   
_Open curtains._   
_Breakfast reservation available at Ritz._   
_The person in front in the queue will choose the chocolate cake, not that last slice of lemon drizzle._   
_Removal of clothes._   
_Removal of restraints._   
_Change genitalia type._   
_Heal rug burns._   
_Soundproof room._   
_Cancel gag reflex._   
_Change clothing to clothing worn in 1793_   
_Create manacles._

...  
  
  
Lots more fluid removals. Lots more procurement of things that surely could have been purchased easily from nearby establishments in Soho. That one, he should probably send a memo about. Clothing removals. More soundproofing. More restaurant reservations.    
  
He groaned, and rubbed at his forehead again. This felt positively Voyeuristic. This didn’t feel right at all. This felt like prying. He closed the file sharply. He had met the Principality on a few occasions. He had seemed very prim, quiet and fastidious. Surely this couldn’t be the right file. He didn’t SEEM like.... like THAT. He reached for the telephone on his desk. It rang. 

"WHAT!” came the impatient snarl. “I’m in the middle of auditing right now, and I am not in the best mood”  Pravuil smiled despite himself.

“ Pazazu , it’s me.  Pravuil ” 

  
"I bloody know that Prav. Who else from upstairs would be calling me, you feathery imbecile!” 

  
“Oh, come now, I know you love me really” He responded. A little of his usual good humour creeping back in. “I need a cross reference. Any of your lot active around Soho in September?” 

  
“AAAAaaaaaaah, you’re after THEM are you! At it like fucking newlyweds. I’m sure that file gave you quite the eye opener. Didn't know angels could be THAT kinky, myself.” 

  
“So, you’ve seen... what they’re up to?” 

  
“Yeah, it’s all, clean up on aisle seven, innit. “

  
“What are you putting them through as?” 

  
“Mostly putting them through under personal hygiene or social interaction, accordingly. Those codes are probably the closest we’ve got, seeing as there is no ‘banging like a screen door in a hurricane’ code. Funny thing is, nothing I’ve come across counts as a violation. All within regulations.”

  
“Oh, well, that’s something......”

  
“anything else, or can I get back to this infernal paperwork?”

  
“No, that will be all for now, Zaz. Thanks.” The Demon hesitated at the fondness in his equivalents voice. 

  
“Prav?” 

  
“Yeah?”

  
“Fancy meeting up for lunch when the audit is done?” Pravuil beamed. 

  
“That would be lovely, Zaz........ I thought you’d never ask!” 

  
“ Yeah well.... The times they are a changin'. If these files are anything to go by, anyway. I’ll call back when I’m done and arrange something.”

  
“See you soon then?”

  
“See you soon, twatface” the Demon replied affectionately, before slamming the phone down in his customary stroppy way. Whistling, he went back to his stack of files.    
  
Pravuil lightly caressed the phone receiver in his hand before setting it down. He smiled to himself, and marveled at the butterflies in his tummy. Times were changing indeed. 


	8. Burnished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, watches the Sun rising. it's the highlight of his day.   
> but everything has changed now. and his new friend has something to show him.

The water falling from the sky eased. Aziraphale allowed himself a sideways glance at the serpent demon. He really was quite pretty. His red hair looked beautiful in the late afternoon sun, and his eyes... well, his eyes were probably the Angels  favourite thing he’d seen in the garden.  So this was a Demon?! With its soft, easy smile, gentle, amused voice, the creases around the eyes, framing its face like wings. As the water slowly came to an end, Aziraphale withdrew his protective wing, and shook the droplets from his feathers.    
  
“oh, look at the state of them.” he began threading his fingers through the plumage.    
  
“Here. Let me. After all, you sheltered me, it’s the least I could do” The Demons long fingers joined the Angels, working through the scruffy edges until the feathers lay once again, smooth and clean. Aziraphale trembled a little at the touch. It felt intimate. He thought of how the humans had started to cover up before they were banished. He felt a little ashamed, to have someone else see his wings. Strange, he’d not felt that way before. “So. What now?”   
  
“What do you mean, ‘What now’?”   
  
“Well, you were here to guard the Eastern gate, and protect them. And now, they’re out there, and they’re ….not in her  favour anymore. So, are you out of a job?”    
  
“Hmmm.... I suppose so. I expect I will be re assigned. Or cast out, after all, I did fail to stop them being tempted, and I did give away my holy weapon.....I’m going to fall, aren’t I?” The Angel looked crestfallen. He swallowed  hard, his face tight with anxiety. “Is it.... Crawly, wasn’t  it?... ..How bad is it? Falling, I mean?”   
  
The Demon flinched. His eyes welling with tears. He was trembling.    
  
“I....I.... I.....I don’t......” Aziraphale nodded stoically.    
  
“I see. I won’t make you talk about it, if it’s painful to talk about. That's answer enough” His brow was furrowed, his eyes in turmoil.    
  
“I’m sure though... She wouldn’t.... not you..... you’re good!”   
  
“Oh, thank you.... I wish I had your confidence in this matter. You see...I’ve never been that GOOD at being an Angel.... I mess up all the time. I don’t know why. I try and do the right thing, but....” The Demon Shrugged.    
  
“Ah, I never was that good at it either. Obviously. But you’re deep down good. She wouldn’t make you fall for wanting them to be protected. After all, that IS your job. In a way, you’re doing great.” The sky had darkened, and the stars began to sparkle against the dark  dark skies. Aziraphale sighed as he sat against the walls ridge behind him. He made a small fire to stay warm, and gazed up into the sky.    
  
“They’re so beautiful, the stars” he sighed. “I just feel....so peaceful when I see them ..... like.......like I’m not alone. Does that sound foolish?”   
  
“No”  Crawleys voice cracked a little. There were fragments of memories of the before time. And hearing this Angel praise the stars touched him deep inside. He didn’t know why. “not foolish. I feel like... there’s something important about them too.”    
  
Angel and Demon talked long. About the plants and animals of the garden. About sky and swimming in the stream, and hearing the birds singing. And the sky grew darker. The fire crumbled down to embers. eventually the sky began to lighten again. Aziraphale eagerly got to his feet, looking out over the dry desert   
  
“Crawley. Come and watch this. This is my  favourite part of the day!” the Demon, who had been slouching in a half  doze , got to his feet, stepping in close to the Angel again. The skies became gradually pinker, then a soft grey gold. The birds stirred in the trees and began to sing. Crawley watched the light reflect on the Angels face. Those blue grey green eyes wide with wonder, his lips parted, in rapture at the changing skies. “LOOOK!”   
  
Crawley looked. A sliver of molten gold cut over the horizon, spilling out over the sands, chasing shadows in its onslaught. The sliver grew slowly, rising into the skies. The Angel looked utterly enchanted. Gradually the ferociously bright sun rose, the  colours of the sky changing, slowly to the soft blue they knew well” The Angel closed his eyes, a soft smile on his lips, as he took a deep, slow breath and let it out again. He opened his eyes.    
  
“Every morning. Isn't it beautiful?!”    
  
“Yes, Principality Aziraphale. It's very beautiful. Have you seen what happens at the West gate?”   
  
“No... what? Something happens there too? Is it as beautiful?”   
  
“it’s.... more red. More gold. I think you’d like it. …. seeing as you have nothing to guard, perhaps I can show you it later today. If we walk along the wall, you’ll get to see more of the garden, and at the other end, you can see the sun setting. I think you might like it even more.”   
  
“well, I suppose you’re right. And if I might...be … going to be cast out, I may not get the chance again. You're the only Demon up here, right?” Crawley nodded. “yes, so I might never see the light of day, once the dust settles.”   
  
So, the pair walked together. Aziraphale was surprised how easy the Demon was to talk to. Demons, it seemed, weren’t anything like he had been told. He was charming, funny, and had a beautiful naïve innocence about him. His liquid gold eyes were so expressive, his hands moved enchantingly as he talked. Aziraphale  realised he was growing very fond of him. From time to time, they stopped to admire the changing terrain in the garden. At the East, it was humid and tropical. As they passed around the North, the trees were taller, a  more dark green. Pointed, and heavily scented. The Angel at the North was ahead. Crawly excused himself, sliding down the wall, back in a serpent form, he didn’t want to chance that this Angel would be as open to conversation as the Eastern Guardian. He had observed them all, safe in snake form, and the Eastern Guardian seemed to have more openness, more curiosity than the others. He had felt sure he would not be  smote down. Or smitten. Is it smitten? He wasn’t sure what the correct terminology was. He felt like he had been Smitten. Aziraphale conversed briefly with the other guardian. He too was unsure what lay ahead. But he had decided to stand at his post until he was told otherwise.    
  
Further along the wall, the silken sable and scarlet snake climbed back to the Angel's side. They carried onwards. Together. When they reached the Western Gate, it’s guardian wasn’t there. Aziraphale wondered if she had been summoned away for punishment. Crawly climbed easily onto the walls edge, letting his long legs dangle. Aziraphale joined him.    
  
“So, what happens here?”   
  
“You’ll see, soon” they sat together in comfortable silence, as a hush began to fall over the garden. The sky began to darken, and the sun was lower in the sky. And then.... Oh, then the  colours . Reds and golds, blazing like the core of the Earth, heat and fire, the fluffy clouds aflame with the reflected light. Gradually, the sun grew lower, the skies above darkened, fading from the reds and golds to purples and indigo blue, where the stars sparkled. But Aziraphale could hardly look away from the  colours of the Molten Sun. It was beautiful. More beautiful even than the Dawn. Finally, the sun sank below the horizon, and the burnished  colours faded. He had a lump in his throat. How could he have never seen this? What if he never saw it again? If they came for him in the night, or tomorrow. He wondered, would she allow him the mercy of seeing this one more time before... no, not the time to think about that. He turned to the Demon. And those warm, golden, burning eyes, like the skies had been just a short time before.    
  
“Oh, Crawly. THANK YOU. That was so beautiful. I’m so grateful you showed it to me”    
  
The Demon smiled fondly.    
  
“Any time, Angel”


	9. Just a J, really.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony J. Crowley.  
> it's just a J, really. 
> 
> but it was never really just a J. 
> 
> post church bombing.

The Angel tenderly washed his feet, watching with fascination as the iridescent rainbow black scales rose and fell along the surface of the reddened flesh. 

Crowley whimpered softly as the wet cloths soothed lightly across his sole. almost as if it were his SOUL. So delicate, so tender the angel's touch. The little furrows of his brow. He had steeped herbs in the water and cooled it just enough to be bearable. Marsh mallow root. Linseed for its silky mucilage. Lavender. Honey. The scent was pleasant and calming. 

"You really shouldn't have done this to yourself" The angel whispered softly. "I would have got out of there. I would have survived. I never wanted you to harm yourself for me." The Demon hissed as the Angel carefully tugged away his other boot. Tears welled in his golden eyes with a whimper as a layer of skin came away with his fine cotton sock. The Angel gulped at the raw, tender flesh in front of him. "Here, soak this one too, for a while. I'll carry on with the first."

So, so gently the cloth was eased between his toes. His nails rippling between flat and even and sharp talons. The Angel seemed not to notice. Continued to tenderly clean the angry, weeping, burns. When he was satisfied the first foot was clean to his satisfaction, he liberally applied the heavy balm he had made himself. Carefully he dressed the wound with clean bandages, then moved on to the second foot, worse than the first. 

"So. Anthony J. Crowley?" 

"Yeah. Crowley on its own doesn't really pass muster these days. People want to know all of the name. People accept it if I say it's my surname, but they still want the rest. Anthony, well, it was the first A name that came to mind, and I started thinking A. well, other than Adam. But Adam isn't my name, is it? It would always be his name."

"This one is really bad. I'm going to have to remove some of the dead skin before I can clean it sufficiently" The Angel stood, and headed to the small kitchen behind the shop. He returned with two glasses of scotch and a very sharp looking knife. And a wooden spoon. Crowley raised his eyebrows, as he was handed a glass and the utensil. "Drink that. Bite down on that. I will try and make it as bearable as I can." he brought the knife to the dead skin, carefully incising it away, revealing the living but suffering layers of skin beneath. Some of the skin was entirely gone down to the flesh beneath. leaving raw and red tracts over his fleshy sole. "I'm afraid you will be out of action while this one heals, unless you can get by on just the one for a while. most likely you will carry some of these scars. but if I leave the dead flesh, the necrosis will spread." Aziraphale could hear the wood splintering in his Demons teeth as he bit down, while he worked on a particularly deep burn. once he cleared it, he handed Crowley the second glass of scotch, which he downed enthusiastically. Aziraphale nodded curtly before removing most of the skin of his dear friend or enemies ball of his foot. the Demon breathed shallow and fast, whimpering. "I'm sorry. if I didn't you could lose this foot. it's a holy burn. it must be removed." He cleaned the wounds, then applied a poultice. Dressed the foot with thick, soft bandages. 

He poured another glass of scotch. Handed it over. Watched it drained in one long bob of his angular throat. Aziraphale refilled the glass, watched again as it was downed in desperate gulps. 

"Better?" he asked softly, handing over the bottle of spirits, might as well give up on the charade of filling his glass. The demon shook his head, but his eyes were losing focus. 

"No, Angel. I am in a lot of pain right now, and not nearly drunk enough. More alcohol!" Aziraphale could hear the slur threatening the edge of his voice. 

"Here. another bottle. You need to sleep this off tonight, at the very least. Probably more if you want me to help it heal right. You can take my bed. I rarely sleep. I can sit up and read. ...... so. you explained the Anthony. what about the J?"

"What about it?" he said dismissively. 

"Come on, Crowley. I am saving you from losing extremities here. maybe you could tell me what the J is for"

"Just a J.... really.... just a J."

"Of all the initials, why J?" Crowley snarled, very much now on the defensive"

"IT'S! JUST! A! J!!.... DROP IT AZIRAPHALE!" The Demons teeth were bared. His fangs lengthening. 

Aziraphale lifted the wounded Demon and carried him upstairs to the soft, cosy bed. He carefully placed the hat, jacket and glasses on the bedside table. He removed his tie, unbuttoned the Demons collar and cuffs so he could be comfortable to sleep. With a gulp, he tugged the Demons belt from his trousers, and unbuttoned the top of his fly. For his own comfort of course. He laid a soft, warm blanket over the demon, tucking plumped pillows beneath his head. He could see the drift in Crowleys eyes. He would sleep soon. The Angel sat back in his comfortable chair with a book, ready to administer more help if needed. The Demons breathing leveled out, steadied, and became soft and vulnerable. Aziraphale watched over him. 

The demon didn't make friends easily. He could count his true friends on one hand. Or on his thumbs. Or his eyes. Or, in his snake form, on his.....efforts. His dream dragged him violently to the side of his only other friend, in his dying moments. 

It had taken days for him to die. Days in which he had suffered greater torture than those being tortured in Hell. Crowley understood then, that both Angels and Demons were nowhere near the cruelty of humans themselves. Crowley never left his side. neither did his Mother. For Each breath, he struggled to raise his body enough to draw in air. Each breath reopening the wounds, so carefully positioned so he would not bleed out. Days later, each breath was slow, rasping. The pain was unimaginable to Crowley. The Carpenters son fought for one last breath. it rattled harshly through his body, bubbling through the blood in his lungs. Crowley rose, and gently laid her hand upon the young mans mangled foot, where it was near split from the nails that secured him to the post. Like his own forked tongue, but bloody and destroyed. The Dark eyes met Crowleys golden ones. He would never ever forget the guttural sound of that last breath leaving him, his dark skin under the film of old dried blood and filth.  
Jeshua died in agony. Crowleys heart broke yet again. he, or rather, She, at the time, had loved the young man. not like he loved the Angel, but it was a pure love nonetheless. Jeshua had always known what Crowley was. He had known at their first meeting. Of course he had. But he had treated him kindly. He truly didn't judge him. He was the best of the humans. Crowley wondered how he was supposed to be of God herself, but so without judgement. Jeshua would never have cast him aside. so Crowley never abandoned him in return. 

Time passed. He and his Angel were eternal. Even if the carpenter's boy was not. 

it was never JUST a J. not really.


	10. a bad day at the office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after the unsuccessful execution of Crowley, Beelzebub is having a very stressful day at work.

Beelzebub stalked down the dank corridor. Nobody dared approach. The figure was small, pock marked, and surrounded by a swarm of bluebottles. Their buzzing a low drone. Nevertheless, that tiny, almost frail figure was one of the most powerful demons in hell. Or so they had believed. 

WHAT HAD JUST HAPPENED?! The traitor Crowley had been dunked most unceremoniously into that bath, and yes, the Prince expected to lose some low-level minions to his writhing and thrashing. Instead, the bastard had seemed to ENJOY it. Swishing those long, lean limbs through the lethal waters. 

Beelzebub was also, though they wouldn’t admit it, relieved. The Demon Crowley didn’t remember, but they had both been good friends before the fall. Sidqiel and Kokabiel had even worked quite closely on stars and planets together. She, as she was then, was especially proud of their work on the beautiful planet, Venus. The Morning Star. Always seemed kind of appropriate, considering. Their inappropriate sense of humour had been something they had in common. Beelzebub often wondered if it was okay that they hadn’t shared the identity of the fallen Kokabiel. They were sure that several higher than them would have valued that information, and Crawley, as he became, himself didn’t seem to know who they were before. 

Beelzebub had felt a low chill seeing the droplets flicked dramatically from those fingers. How was this possible?! 

Beelzebub did not hate Crowley. Far from it. Beelzebub was amused by the abandon with which the ridiculous serpent of Eden flouted every rule laid in their way. Even the rules they had set themself. Well, that was how they had both ended up cast out, after all. 

Crowley was a terrible employee. Oh, he got things done, often in clever ways that other demons lacked the imagination to come up with. He used broad strokes to taint lives with a near constant background level of irritation and minor inconvenience. Unfortunately, that irritation and inconvenience was as much to his coworkers as to his targets. The M25 had been a stroke of genius, and he had applied himself to the execution of that plan with a focus he often lacked. And that was the problem. He didn’t apply himself unless an idea excited him. 

Crowley was a nightmare to work with. but that didn’t mean that Beelzebub disliked him. there was even a grudging respect. And after what they had witnessed... admiration, even. 

Being a Prince of Hell had its perks. But it wasn’t an easy job. And Crowley made that job more frustrating. 

Beelzebub slammed the door of their office behind them and flung themself into the desk chair, idly spinning it a few times. 

“DAGON!” Their harsh voice rang out. “Get me Crowley's filezzz. And get them pulling up any information you have on the use of holy water.” Dagon's jaw was tight. Anxious. They were all unsettled to see a demon unharmed by holy water. It went against everything they had all felt they knew with a certainty. And now it seemed Crowley could be more powerful than any of them. When he had suggested that he and the principality be left alone, Beelzebub had hastily agreed. Safest for all of them. They didn’t know what they might be going up against. And Crowley had seemed keen to cut ties and leave. Yes, safest to leave it. Don't poke the snake. If they left him alone, then they in turn would be left alone by him. And if he was immune to holy water.... as he had said himself, what else could he do? 

“Yes, my Prince.” Beelzebub scoffed. 

“Feels like a bloody deszzk job sometimezzzz” Their phone rang. Beelzebub huffed. “WHAT?!” 

“Prince Beelzebub. We have a problem.” Came a wheedling voice. Ugh. It was that shit eater Sandalphon. One of the nastiest angels of all of them. It was a miracle he wasn’t one of theirs, and they were very glad he wasn’t. Vile creature that he was. “The hellfire you sent up...is there any possibility it was defective?” Beelzebub felt a cold chill. 

“Of courzze not. What are you not telling me?” They had a feeling they knew what was coming next. 

“The Principality Aziraphale....” Sandalphons voice was shaking. He.....he stepped into the hellfire and....” 

“AND WHAT?!” 

“And NOTHING. He seemed to find it rather relaxing. Just stood there like it was nothing.” 

“And THEN what?” 

“Well.... we.... we let him go. Are you SURE there’s not been a mix up with the hellfire?” 

“There is NOTHING that can be mistaken for hellfire, and you know it. If you’re going to accuzzzze us of not delivering on our side of the bargain, step into it and see for yourself, slimeball. ” Beelzebub smiled a little at the thought of that odious slug of an angel burning up into nothing. Without bothering to say any more, they ended the call. 

There was a loud banging at the door. Beelzebub tutted loudly. 

“WHAT! CAN WE NOT GET A MOMENTZ PEACE AROUND HERE!” The door opened. “HASTUR! FUCK!” 

“No rest for the wicked, My lord, isn’t that what they say?” Hasturs face was twisted and dark with unresolved vengeance. Beelzebub glared back silently. “Why did you let the traitor go?” 

“I don’t know if it ezzcaped your notice, Hastur, but the execution wazzz unsucessful! We can’t dezztroy him” 

“If you let me bring him back, I can make him WISH we could destroy him” He said darkly, clenching his fists. 

“THATZZZZ THE END OF IT, HAZZTUR! We have no idea what other advantages he hazzzz! I will NOT allow any foolish attemptzz at vigilante juzztizzzz.” Their jaw clenched down on the buzz and rattle of their voice in annoyance. “DO YOU UNDERZZZTAND ME!” The buzzing of the flies intensified. 

“But, my Prince, he...” 

“I KNOW WHAT HE DID, HAZZZTUR! AND THATZZZZ THE END OF IT! I WILL NOT TOLERATE ANY FURTHER DISOBEDIENZZZZ FROM YOU. THE MATTER IZZZZZZ DONE! WE CUT TIEZZ WITH HIM. HE AND THE ANGEL ARE TO BE LEFT ALONE DO YOU UNDERZZZTANNNNNND!” 

“The angel?” 

“He izzz also unharmed. We don’t know what they are capable of. If an angel can walk into hellfire, and a demon take a bath in holy water....what else? We have NEVER seen this sort of power, and we do NOT want to find out what else they can do if they are under threat. DO. YOU. UNNDERZZTANDDDDD!!!” 

“Yes, Lord Beelzebub” The duke said coldly 

“NOW GET OUT OF MY FACE OR I WILL DEZZZTROY YOU WITHOUT HEZZITATION” Hastur left, grumbling. 

Beelzebub flung their leg over the arm of the chair, idly scratching their sharp nails into the peeling formica of the ugly desk. sensing the tension in the room was on a hair width tightrope, Dagon placed the files on the desk without a word, backing out of the office, under that cold blue stare. 

The next time the door opened, Beelzebub lifted the chair and threw it hard at the unfortunate disposable who dared disturb them. It was not a good day at the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, I know a lot of people are following Garden of Temptations at the moment, but I have enjoyed writing the snippets of Beelzebub that have cropped up so far, and decided to take a brief diversion into a the POV. of a Prince of Hell. normal, filthy service will return shortly.


End file.
